Apocalyptic Lust
by mycatisgossipgirl
Summary: Rabastan Lestrange had always had a fascination for shinny things. He would touch them, watch as his fingerprints stained the once glossy gold or silver. It reminded him of how much damage he could do to the smallest of thing, taking away what once made them pure. Hermione Granger was the purest mudbloods he'd ever seen and it made his hands twitch.
1. Prologue

Keep on dreaming, don't stop giving, fight those demons  
Sell your soul, not your whole self  
If they see you when you're sleeping, make them leave  
And I can't even see if it's all there anymore

**Afraid - The Neighbourhood**

* * *

Things began to change at the end of their fourth year, marked by the death of Cedric Diggory. The Ministry and the Daily Prophet had been slandering Harry and Dumbledore, something that the public ate up without much complaint. It was easier to think that Harry was crazy and that Dumbledore was a manipulative old man than it was to accept that Voldemort was back. Hermione may understand it, but it didn't mean she wasn't incensed by it. She wanted to wrap Harry up in a blanket and curse all the people who dared to eye him the wrong way. Sadly, that wasn't in her power and Harry's cranky mood wasn't really helping the tension in the Gryffindor common room.

The only positive that came from the whole situation was that it had pushed Ron and her closer together, in an effort to rally Harry with a stable support network. Usually Harry acted as the glue, the middle man when they fought. It was a refreshing change.

"Are you okay Mione?" Hermione looked up from the same line she'd been reading for the last ten minutes. Ron had sat down beside her, and she hadn't even noticed.

"Yeah, just doing the reading for Binns class," Hermione explained, and Ron shuddered at the thought of doing extra reading for their History of Magic class.

"You seriously need to take a break; the OWLs aren't for months!" Ron exclaimed.

"You're going to regret saying that when you get your results." Hermione muttered and Ron snorted in response. He leaned back in the seat, surveying the common room. It was fairly busy as it was the time between last class and dinner. This was usually when everyone caught up and talked about the events of the day. She saw the twins whispering in the corner and she sincerely hoped they weren't planning on luring some unsuspecting test subjects again. She would hate to have to get into that same argument, especially when she knew Ron wouldn't stand up to his older brothers with her. He didn't take his position as prefect as seriously as she did.

"Harry wouldn't leave the dorm." Ron lowered his voice. Hermione sighed. She knew he was taking the backlash from the Prophet and Umbridge hard. It was more than that though. She wondered if he was struggling with the memories of what happened in the final task of the tri-wizard tournament. The meetings of Dumbledore's Army had definitely helped raise his spirits, but it didn't completely lift the dark cloud that hung over his head and it worried Hermione greatly.

"Maybe he'll come out when the others go down for dinner." She mused. Ron nodded, but looked doubtful. A silence fell between them. It felt wrong without Harry.

Things were definitely changing.

* * *

Rabastan Lestrange was saner than most of those that had spent over a decade in Azkaban prison. It wasn't a place to be happy or comfortable. It was built merely to keep its inhabitants alive, if his existence is what could be called being alive. He could occasionally hear Bellatrix cackle at nothing in particular and the mutterings of someone whose voice he didn't recognise.

There were no stimulants, no way to spend the time in his cell. It meant that Rabastan had spent a lot of the time in the last few years musing everything, in the manner of a great philosopher. He could probably write a book on all of his random theories. This habit had helped lessen the effects of the Dementors. If he had the chance, he'd advise Bellatrix to do the same just to get her to shut up. He knew the woman had no love for Rodolphus and the Dark Lord was dead, meaning she had no direction. It made the job of Azkaban's guards so much easier. It was pitiful really.

It could be the dimming of his own sanity, but he could feel the winds shift, as the ocean waves hit the stone walls that surrounded him.

Things were changing.

* * *

**So this is dedicated to Violet97mc who hunted me down two years after I originally removed this story and asked me to repost it! Lucky I found it in my documents! I may perhaps continue it once more, but for now I'll post the couple of chapters I have! Hope you guys enjoy!**


	2. Cynical Soul

Think you're so criminal  
Bruises on both my knees for you  
Don't say thank you or please  
I do what I want when I'm wanting to  
My soul? So cynical  
**Bad Guy – Billie Eilish**

It felt good to wear robes instead of the disgusting rags that Azkaban had given him. It took Rabastan an hour under the shower stream to get the layers of dirt off him and he still didn't feel completely clean. He wondered how long that feeling would last. The Malfoy's manor wasn't exactly where he wished to be, but it was better than where he'd been for the last decade and a half. Even the bloody Shrieking Shack would be better than Azkaban.

"Lestrange, are you decent?" Antonin Dolohov's gruff voice asked as he knocked on the door. Rabastan groaned.

"Yes Dolohov," he replied, still examining his reflection in the full-length mirror. The door creaked open and he regarded the Russian wizard through the mirror's glass. He looked better now he'd had accessed to some styling spells, but it was obvious how gaunt they all still looked. It would be a while before they were back to a healthy weight after being deprived of good food for so long. The man chuckled.

"It's only been a day and you're already back to preening in the mirror." Antonin laughed. It was well known that Rabastan was proud of his looks. At least he had been in the past. At the moment? _Not so much_. The skinny, untoned man that stared back at him was a stranger and yet this man reflected the damage Azkaban had given him over the last fourteen years.

"It almost seems odd to see anything other than stone walls." He mused. Antonin made a sound of agreement as he sunk onto the bed. Rabastan had been shoved into the random guest room shortly after his arrival. It had been chaos when they arrived and Narcissa was clearly unsure of what to do with so many people that hadn't dealt with human contact for over a decade. She handled it with poise, but it was awkward in the least.

"Apparently the Dark Lord will be here at seven."

"What's the time now?" Rabastan asked. He wasn't sure if he was quite ready to see the Dark Lord once more. It was odd to think he was alive. He was pleased as it had led to his freedom, but it was still something he couldn't quite wrap his mind around. The last time he'd been in the free world, the Dark Lord had been considered vanquished and the war was over. Things had clearly changed, if the fact he had a corporal form once more meant anything.

"Around five," Dolohov supplied.

"Probably give Bellatrix enough time to milk Doph's cock before she fawns over the Dark Lord." Rabastan snorted. Rodolphus and his wife hadn't exactly been quiet, and they didn't have wands yet so none of them could cast silencing charms. Narcissa had saved them all by casting the appropriate spells, muttering as she strode down the hallway. Rabastan wondered how long it would take the Malfoy matron to hex one of them.

"That woman is crazier than she was before," Dolohov scrunched his nose. Rabastan had to agree. His distaste for his sister-in-law wasn't exactly a secret.

"Azkaban does that to a person." He said and the Russian wizard sighed. It was the unspoken Hippogriff in the room. None of them were quite ready to talk about their time in the prison. Not yet, probably not ever.

Antonin left shortly after that in search of the library. He was always a bookworm and heaven knows that the Malfoy's didn't use their books as much as they should. He was probably doing them a favour by cleaning all the cobwebs off them. Lucius Malfoy was known for assuming money could buy anything, it wasn't like he'd take much stock in knowledge.

Rabastan headed down into the dining room of the large house, where he found Narcissa reading a newspaper. She barely looked up when he entered.

Narcissa had aged far better than her sister. Her blonde hair was tied behind her ears and her face was delicately made up. She was the picture-perfect pureblood wife. Rabastan wondered what Rodolphus' life would have been like if it had been the younger Black sister he had been betrothed to instead of Bellatrix. _Probably far better. _

Rabastan had never been married. The woman he'd been promised to had run off with an American half-blood six months before the wedding. Delilah Greengrass wasn't exactly the sort of person he'd wanted to share a bed with, let alone be bonded to for life. He preferred smart women, not ones that simply stood there and smiled demurely. It was something that the Black sisters definitely had over most pureblood women. Both Narcissa and Bellatrix, and their disowned middle sister Andromeda, were rather bright.

"Narcissa." He greeted the woman. She looked up from the newspaper and smiled tightly at him.

"Rabastan. You look far better after a warm shower."

"Duly noted." He slipped into the chair next to her. "What are you reading?"

She slid the newspaper over to him. He barely read the _Daily Prophet _title before he was overwhelmed by the moving prison photos of himself and the other escapees.

"Ah, they've told the public?" Narcissa nodded.

"Thankfully, they appear to be blaming Sirius for it. He's escaped before; it makes him the perfect candidate." The woman made no motion that she cared about her cousin's name being dragged through the mud. Narcissa had little love for her younger relative, especially after he was burnt off the family tree. They'd never really had much in common during their childhood either. Sirius had been the one who'd pull girl's hair at the pureblood functions, whilst Narcissa attempted to emulate her mother in every single way, down to the way she sipped her drink.

"Black escaped?" Rabastan had no idea that the man had managed such a feat.

"Yes, about two years ago," Narcissa supplied. "He hasn't been found yet. The Prophet has been dragging Harry Potter, Dumbledore and Sirius' names through the mud lately. The ministry is being as blind as usual."

"Harry Potter?" Rabastan hated how much he'd missed in the last few years. The last time he'd been a free man, the boy had been merely a baby who'd just survived the curse of the Dark Lord. It was hard to think he was now a fifteen-years-old boy.

Narcissa stood up from the table and walked over to one of the cabinets. "I was assigned to collect some information that would be useful for you all as you assimilate to the free world." She placed a stack of parchment in front of him. "You might as well get a head start before the others appear."

Rabastan nodded as the woman gave him another once over before walking out the room and heading up the stairs, calling her sister's name. He hoped for her sake that the woman was done doing unspeakable things to his brother. That wasn't a sight anyone deserved to see.

He turned his attention the pile of notes that Narcissa had put in front of him. He realized most of them were articles taken from the Prophet and other publications. Some detailed the trials of the death eaters and the downfall of the Dark Lord. Most of that he already knew, having been around until a few months after the Dark Lord disappeared. Those were probably more for Travers and Dolohov who had been caught before the Dark Lord's downfall.

He began to read about Potter's time at Hogwarts. Most of the earlier years were filled with things that he couldn't believe. _How much bad luck could one kid have?_ If it wasn't for Fudge kissing Dumbledore's behind until recently, the headmaster would have already been fired. It certainly appeared that Lucius had tried to get the older man disposed of a couple years ago.

Rabastan Lestrange had always had a fascination for shinny things. He would touch them, watch as his fingerprints stained the once glossy gold or silver. It reminded him of how much damage he could do to the smallest of items, taking away what once made them pure and desirable. His father had always chastened him not to touch the items, citing it was rude to put his grubby hands on people's precious items. That was most likely why one particular article caught his attention. There was a photo of a young girl, with wild curls that could rival his sister-in-law and bright brown eyes drew him in. It was an article about the Yule Ball, and the photos featured young couples dancing.

There was a beauty about the girl he couldn't quite put his finger on. It wasn't that she had a classically gorgeous face like Narcissa, no, it was something else. Something so pure he couldn't help but wonder what his fingerprints would look like upon her pale skin. He read the caption and his mystery was solved.

_So this was Hermione Granger_.

His lips curled on one side and his fingers twitched.

_Hermione Mudblood Granger, 'the brightest witch of her age'. _

_Supposedly dating Harry Potter himself…if Rita Skeeter is to be believed._

"What are you looking at, brother?" Rodolphus walked into the room, looking noticeably brighter than he had earlier that day. He had the decency to shower before emerging from his room. He smelt clean, but noticeably absent was any of the cologne that Rabastan had taken advantage of. He leant over his younger brother's shoulder. "She's a pretty one." He murmured. Both brothers had a fascination regarding women with curly hair.

"She's Harry Potter's mudblood." Rodolphus whistled.

"Mudblood's didn't look like that in our day."

Rabastan had to agree. He continued to watch the photo move for a few moments before flicking through the rest of the articles, looking for mentions of a certain curly-haired witch. His fingers traced along any mention of her name, his mouth drying at a realization.

Perhaps bringing down Harry Potter would be more rewarding than he first thought it would be.

Hermione felt odd without the Weasleys and Harry at Hogwarts. She wasn't able to leave as Umbridge was already frustrated that Harry and the others had managed to leave without her knowledge. Things were tense, and the toad-faced woman had even tried questioning her about it. Thankfully, this was before Professor McGonagall had told her anything of use, so her confusion was genuine. This didn't ease the woman's temper however, and the last few days of term were like walking on eggshells. She didn't want to give the D.A.D.A professor any reason to punish her and try to get some information about Harry's whereabouts. She'd seen the scars on the back of his hand, she shuddered to think the lengths the woman would go to if she was truly tested.

Hermione had been thankful her parents understood why she hadn't taken to skiing. It seemed ridiculous for a witch, even a muggleborn one, to race down a mountain trusting two planks strapped to her feet. As much as she loved her parents, she rather not spend the rest of her time off study on a random mountain.

When she arrived at Grimauld place, she'd been relieved to see the others were okay. She knew Mr. Weasley would recover, but it had been a stressful time without getting much news from anyone. She definitely understood how Harry felt during the summer holidays, when they couldn't write and tell him anything.

Number 12 Grimmaud place may be very dreary, but the company filling the halls definitely brightened things up. That being said, there was only so much of the loud Weasley siblings that Hermione could take. Having grown up as an only child, she wasn't used to the amount of noise the redhead's produced, especially when they took to loudly arguing about individual Qudditch players. When this happened, Hermione retreated into the Black family's library.

Reading had always soothed her and being surrounded by so much knowledge made her heart race and her palms sweaty. It was like discovering the Hogwarts library all over again. She envied pureblood children that got to grow up with such knowledge at their fingertips.

"I should have known I'd find you in here." Sirius Black leant against the doorframe. "Harry said you loved reading." She didn't know how long he'd been standing there. She'd jumped in fright, placing a hand over her heart in an effort to slow its beat.

"Yes-yes I…I do." She managed breathlessly.

Hermione hadn't ever really had a one-on-one conversation with Harry's godfather. She wasn't quite sure what she thought of the man. She was thankful that Harry had some sort of family influence in his life, but she worried that Sirius was a little too reckless to be the paternal figure that Harry truly needed.

"Sorry I frightened you, love." He grinned at her. Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at his cheeky grin. It was obvious that Sirius had been handsome in his day, but years of Azkaban and the loss of his best friend had done some damage to him. The moments that his charismatic persona shone through were the moments that Hermione saw something a little more endearing in the man.

"You give yourself too much credit, Sirius." She smiled before turning back to the books. She heard Sirius walk into the room and settle himself onto one of the creaky seats. The ice in his drink rattled as he moved, and she didn't have to be the brightest witch in her year to know there was more than butterbeer in that glass.

"You can borrow any of them. Needless to say, reading isn't my thing. Although I have to warn you, half those books have some…unsavoury contents." Hermione pulled a particular book out of the shelf and read the title, _The History of Muggle Hunting_. She shuddered and put it back. She knew what Sirius meant.

Hermione hadn't had much of a chance to see the library during her last visit to the house. Mrs Weasley had put them to work and there had been barely any time to sleep let alone peruse the books. She knew the woman probably wouldn't approve of Hermione reading such texts, but her curiosity got the best of her. Hogwarts gave a good education, but it wasn't necessarily the broadest. Viktor had told her bits of the theory and magic he'd learnt at Dumstrang and it made Hermione's brain itch. She hated it when she was restrained from knowledge. She knew enough from her past reading ventures to understand that some magic was darker than most, but there couldn't simply be 'light' and 'dark' magic. _It had to rely on the caster… didn't it?_

"I see what you mean." Hermione muttered as she moved away from the offending book, turning to face the man. Sirius chuckled at the expression on her face.

"There's a particular book I think you'd love…let me check." Sirius set aside his drink and walked across the library, quickly browsing the shelves in search of something he didn't appear to find. He sighed. "It must be in Reggie's room."

"Reggie?" Of course she'd seen the sign on one of the closed doors and Harry had mentioned Sirius having a brother who'd died years before, but to hear an affectionate nickname fall from the haunted man's lip tugged at her heart. She couldn't imagine losing a family member, let alone one so young.

"My brother Regulus," he murmured, "come on, I'll get it for you." He motioned her to follow him, grabbing his drink and heading up the stairs. Hermione followed him curiously. Regulus' room hadn't been cleaned or looked at during their time at Grimmauld Place. It was an unspoken sign of respect to Sirius that they didn't touch his or his late brother's room. However, he'd told them to go crazy with his parent's room. He appeared to take a sick pleasure from watching them ransack through his mother and father's possessions.

When they reached the landing, he pushed open the door and Hermione peered in curiously. The walls were covered by Slytherin colours and it was clearly the room of a picture-perfect Black heir. It was like walking into another world and Hermione couldn't help but feel like she was invading a private place. She cautiously walked further in and begun reading the clippings that hung on his wall. They were all centred around Lord Voldemort and were dated back when the dark wizard first rose to power. It was clear the younger Black was a fan of Lord Voldemort before he joined the Death Eaters.

"Here it is," Sirius announced, and Hermione turned to see him holding up a thick book. It looked old and slightly worn but she took it from him and read the title. _Magic and Magical Theory_. She looked questioningly at him. He shrugged.

"I feel like you like understanding the meaning behind everything. This book was Reggie's favourite. He was always trying to sprout discussions with Dad about it. Thought you may find it interesting." He looked a little embarrassed that he'd thought that much about her. She smiled.

"Thank you, Sirius!" she exclaimed. Sirius took a sip of his drink in an effort to hide the pink on his cheeks.

"Sirius!" Harry's voice called from down the stairway.

"That's my cue to play godfather." He grinned, brightening at the thought. He strode out of the room in the direction Harry had called.

Hermione held the book to her chest, looking around the room. Her curiosity was still plaguing her, standing in a room that had been hidden from her before now. She walked over to the desk where Sirius had grabbed the book. A piece of worn parchment sat on the mahogany table. She picked up it and read the dusty parchment, trying to squash her guilt at the thought of looking through someone else's things.

_Don't forget to bring your broom when you come Reg. I'll be damned if I have to sit around and listen to Bella and her sister gossip about random shit again. She has Doph by the balls, I swear._

_-R_

Hermione frowned at the letter. Other than Regulus' own name, she didn't know any of the names mentioned, let alone who this other R was. All she could decipher was that the writer of the note had very lovely handwriting, even if they wrote in such a crude manner. She shook her head, depositing the parchment back onto the table and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind her. She couldn't wait to read the book Sirius had given her.


End file.
